


Saying Sorry

by MTTapologist



Category: Tattered Weave (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-31 06:21:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12676149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MTTapologist/pseuds/MTTapologist
Summary: Robin and the Dollmaker try to work through a misstep.





	Saying Sorry

**Author's Note:**

> (just a little short thing since i couldnt stop thinking about this ship,,,)

His ears twitched in recognition. They saw him tense. But he didn't turn their way, and his sewing only paused for a moment.

"Is that really your name?" the student continued.

The Dollmaker finally looked up, an unreadable mask full of eyes, and folded his gloved hands in his lap. "It is impolite to ask after a Thespian's true name," he said softly. "I do not think it is kind to pepper us with guesses, either."

"Oh, no, I just, uh," the student backpedalled awkwardly, "I heard that was your real name from someone and I, wanted to know if they were making it up, I guess. Sorry, I didn't --"

There was the faintest sigh behind his mask. "On the Stage, we do not give our names to someone we do not truly trust. They are kept private, a secret shared between those who care for each other deeply. ....Someone who would break that confidence so casually is unlikely to have been trusted with such a name in the first place."

The student said nothing, though it seemed like they had thoughts on that last point. They sort of nodded. The Dollmaker did not turn his gaze away, his strange mask creating the impression that he wasn't breaking eye contact. "Uh, okay. Sorry again," the student said finally, and took a few steps back before turning quickly to leave the crypt.

\-----

\-----

The Dollmaker stepped into the garden, shading his face with a hand as he made his way to the shade of Robin's orchards, his other hand guiding little Eludance beside him. Once he reached the trees he knelt down, whispered to his ally, and let them go; the little puppet-kith took off running to play somewhere else in the garden.

"Doll!" came an exuberant voice, and the Dollmaker turned to see Robin running up with a bright smile. She giggled and threw her arms around him; he accepted but did not quite return the embrace. She seemed to ignore this. "Oh, Doll, you're here! It's so good to see you! I have _so_  much to catch you up on, you won't believe -- oh, but I'm being rude! How have you been? How's your dear little kith?" She stepped back and took his arm, starting to lead him to a set of benches in the shade. "And how are things on the Stage? Oh, you have to tell me _everything_ , I--"

"Robin," he said, gently interrupting. Where his mask had hidden whatever expression he might have, his voice betrayed it. He sounded tired. And hurt.

She stopped abruptly. Something in her expression wavered, but she seemed not to want to acknowledge it. "Oh Doll..... is... is something wrong?" She frowned as she took a seat, still looking up at him with concern, then leaned forward conspiratorially, and almost-whispered his name. "It's just us," she said. "You can take off your mask. I won't have anyone stopping by until much later."

After a too-long moment with no visible response, the Dollmaker sat stiffly beside her, hands drawn up close to his chest, legs just a bit too long for the size of the bench.

He did not take off his mask.

"Robin," he said again, with the same pained voice, "a student from Hope came by the graves today to ask after my name."

"...oh... Doll, I --"

"...They guessed correctly."

"I, I -- look," she stammered. "I- I'm sorry! You're right, I, I did -- but I--!" Immediately, she was frantic, horrified -- as if it were all hitting her at once, as if it had truly been out of mind until just now -- as if she almost had convinced herself it hadn't happened.

The Dollmaker let out a long sigh that made his whole body sink, but said nothing, the mask's eyes watching her dispassionately.

"I'm so so _so_ sorry, Doll. I know, I know it was supposed to be a secret, I'm just - I'm not used to that, you know? We don't have secret names! And I never _meant_ to, it just -- I was so excited, it just slipped out!"

The Dollmaker listened.

"I just wanted to tell -- I just, you know, they don't know how sweet you are, I just want to tell everyone about how much you mean to me! And I _never_ meant to--, I mean, I never _wanted_ to -- I'm so sorry, I'm really, truly sorry-- I just made a mistake!!" She was starting to tear up, her voice breaking. "Doll, please, say _something_ , I-- I want to make it up to you! I want to fix this!"

At that, he finally looked away, gaze falling to his lap. ".......you cannot unspeak my name," he said softly, voice not quite steady. "I'm not sure you understand what that means. But this hurt is not so easily mended."

"I didn't mean to -- I never meant to hurt you!" she cried, sounding desperate.

"....I know. Sometimes we have no ill intent, but hurt is still caused." He took one of her hands in both of his, looking at them instead of her face. His voice wasn't scolding, it was gentle, reminding himself of these things even as he shared them with her. "I do not think it does any good to dwell on such a hurt forever, to keep it open and raw. But all the same... it must be given time to heal. It cannot be simply patched up and forgotten.

"You did not intend to break my trust, yet my trust is broken. Were I to trample your beautiful flowers without realising where I stood, my apologies would not bring them back to health. They will take time, and patience, to regrow."

She turned away to wipe her eyes before replying, voice low and shaky, "I understand..."

He did not say anything for a long time. She wished she could see his face.

Finally, he squeezed her hand.

"But I hope, with time, they will bloom again."

 

 

 


End file.
